Devoted to Drew

by Loree Lough

  “Of all the cartoon squirrels I know,” she said, putting the glass on the table, “I like Sandy best.”

  Drew grinned. “Heh. You’re funny, Mom.”

  She helped him disassemble the puzzle, and they took turns dropping the pieces into the box.

  “So if you like him so much,” he said, examining a piece, “why don’t you marry him?”

  No way could she have prepared for a question like that. Sometimes she could distract him without answering.

  This wasn’t one of those times.

  Drew repeated himself twice as she slid the lid back onto the puzzle box.

  “How about helping me put your toys away?” she said, hoping this attempt at evading the subject might succeed. “The family room is a mess, and we wouldn’t want Grandmom to come in here and trip on something.”

  His expression told her things would go one of two ways: he’d want to know why he had to do the work, or he’d ask the “marry him” question again.

  Drew surprised her by going into the family room, where he got busy moving toys from the floor to his toy chest.

  “If you tell Logan that I cleaned up my mess, do you think then he’ll want to get married to us?”

  Interesting, she thought, that he’d said “us.” If she didn’t know better, Bianca would say that Drew realized she yearned for a normal family life, too. What made him think Logan would fill that desire, though, she couldn’t say. He was pleasant enough to be around and seemed like a decent guy. The fact that he knew how to interact with an autistic kid was another point in his favor, but she couldn’t risk letting him get too close to Drew. More accurately, couldn’t risk letting Drew get too close to him. Drew still hadn’t recovered from Jason’s rejection, and Bianca refused to expose him to hurt and disappointment like that again. And then there was the elephant in the room: Logan hadn’t given her any reason to believe he was interested in anything but a professional—albeit friendly—association.

  “Logan is a busy guy,” she began. “His mom is very sick, and he helps his dad and sister take care of her. Plus he has a house of his own to maintain, and filming TV commercials means he puts in long days and travels a lot.”

  “Like Dad used to do?”

  She was mildly surprised that he remembered the long hours, overnight trips and other work responsibilities that had put physical and emotional distance between him and his dad. At times like these, she wondered if, with time and understanding, Jason would have learned to love Drew one day.

  “So what would you say to pizza for supper?” Bianca hoped he’d let the Jason and Logan conversation threads fall by the wayside.

  “I’d say yes!”

  “And afterward, we can have movie night.”

  “With popcorn and hot chocolate in the dark?”

  “You bet. We’ll even put sleeping bags on the floor.”

  “Grandmom, too?”

  “We can ask her.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Cool.” Then he raced for the stairs.

  How many seconds, she wondered, before he knocked on Maddy’s door?

  She didn’t have to wonder long, and it warmed her heart when Maddy’s animated voice blended with his.

  Surrounded as he was by nurturing, unconditional love, surely he’d succeed in life, even without a dad.

  Right?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BASED ON THE dimensions of the desk Logan had ordered for her, Bianca made space in the corner of the family room. If she’d known a stately armoire would arrive with the office equipment, she might have moved her windmill palm and ceiling-tall ficus.

  “Man, oh, man,” Logan grunted, hugging the tall, slender pot that housed her Pachira tree. “This thing must weigh a ton. Quick…tell me where you want it before I burst my spleen!”

  She slid an end table out of the way, and he wasted no time putting the tree down. Straightening, he rubbed his back. “What is that thing?”

  “The botanical name is Pachira aquatica.”

  “The leaves remind me of my grandmother’s chestnut tree.”

  “Some people call it the giant chestnut. Others call it the money tree.”

  He leaned in for a closer look. “That,” he said, pointing at the feathery red accents of a white blossom, “looks like a flower, not a nut or money.”

  Grinning, Bianca said, “You’re lucky you got here when you did. In another half hour or so, it’ll close and won’t open again until it’s dark.”

  Nodding, he stepped back.

  “It was one of the plants someone sent to the funeral home. I’ve babied it and braided the trunk, but this spring is the first time it bloomed. I’m hoping it means I’ll see a few nuts this year, too.”

  “Does it cost a lot to take care of?”

  “No. Just water and a little fertilizer three or four times a year.”

  “Then why do they call it the money tree?”

  “Because some people think the leaves look like groupings of dollar bills. I think it’s the feng shui philosophy.”

  “Fung schway?” he echoed.

  “It’s an ancient philosophy,” she began. “‘Feng’ means wind and ‘shui’ is water. According to the Chinese, they’re the most basic and natural elements…both required for human survival. The theory is, everything—people, animals, plants and things—exists in a world of energy. If our lives are in balance, we invite good energy. Luck, to put it another way. Which attracts other good things.”

  “Ah-ha,” he said. “Like money.”

  “Right.”

  Logan opened the laptop box. “Funny.”

  “What is?” She tore into the printer carton.

  “I never figured you for that type.”

  Bianca frowned slightly. “What type?”

  “You know, one of those—” he drew quote marks in the air “—‘find your center’ Yoga disciples.” He folded his hands, closed his eyes and moaned, “Aum-m-m-m.”

  And then he laughed. And laughed. “Bet you’re awfully cute, though, doing the cobra and the thunderbolt.”

  “I’ll have you know I attended one yoga class. One.” Later, when he was gone, she’d analyze what he might have meant by “cute.”

  Eyes narrowed, Bianca smirked. “How do you know so much about the positions, boss?”

  Logan wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and went back to unpacking the laptop. “My ex-fiancée was into all that meditative, path-to-wisdom hogwash.”

  He wasn’t smiling when he added, “She was the second woman I knew who went down self-realization road. Promised myself if I ever got interested in another woman, first question I’d ask wouldn’t be ‘How about dinner sometime?’ It’d be ‘You’re not into yoga, are you?’”

  Well, that cleared a few things up. Bianca could hardly wait to share his outlook with Maddy, who thought feng shui was a bunch of nonsense.

  On his hands and knees, Logan fished the electric cord through the back of the armoire and plugged it in.

  “Do me a favor, will you?”

  She peered around the cabinet and waited to see which cord or tool he’d ask her to hand him.

  “Don’t call me boss ever again, okay? We’re peers. I’m in it for Sam. You’re in it for Drew. And hopefully, what we accomplish for the boys will benefit a whole lot of kids just like them.”

  Peers? Bianca thought not! She couldn’t recall his exact words, but he’d asked her to think about sharing the job with his sister. Hadn’t he said that if she decided to work with him, they’d discuss salary?

  “Hand me the printer cord, will ya?”

  As she fished the plug through the hole in the back of the cabinet, Bianca accepted that Logan had spent a lot of money on the beautiful armoire and everything that it would house. She intended to make a commitment, too—of time and energy and enthusiasm—because she believed in the project as much as he did. Could she afford to make that investment without remuneration?

  He crawled out from behind the armoire and began co
nnecting the wires to the corresponding electronics.

  “Guess you didn’t hear what I said.” Logan leaned over the printer. “About not calling me boss.”

  “You were two feet away. Of course I heard you.”

  He lined up the printer, the laptop and the mouse pad, then stood back to admire his handiwork. Then he rolled the desk chair toward her.

  “Let’s see how much adjusting it’ll take before we find the right height for you.”

  Bianca plopped onto the seat. He’d said “let’s” and “us,” reminding her of the way Drew had asked if Logan would get married to “us.” Was it a male trait, this tendency to draw people into groups? Or did it mean something more?

  The better question, she thought as he pumped the chair’s height-control handle, was why it mattered. Despite asking her not to call him boss, Logan had made it clear that he saw her as an employee. And she’d underscored the relationship by wondering how much he’d pay her to do the job.

  “There,” he said, rolling her up to the desk tucked into the armoire. “How’s that?”

  She curled her fingers over the laptop’s keyboard. “Perfect.”

  “You’ll like this chair, I think. It’s ergonomically correct, so you should be able to sit here for hours before discomfort sets in.”

  She looked over her shoulder and grinned. Logan looked the way Drew did when he finished his homework or picked up his toys without being asked. Proud.

  Logan’s left brow rose slightly. “What?”

  “Don’t tell me,” she teased. “You made a commercial about this nifty piece of ergonomic furniture.”

  Now he looked hurt, and she felt bad about that.

  Bianca got up. “Sorry. Sometimes my sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. I did record a radio ad for the manufacturer.” He smiled. Not an “It’s okay” or “Don’t worry about it” grin, but the kind that said, “I know something you don’t know.” She’d misread his expression a second ago and didn’t want to repeat the mistake. Maybe she’d heard the commercial while driving Drew to school or on the way home from work.

  “Really?”

  His grin grew. “Guess we have something else in common.”

  Something else? Bianca ran a short list of the things he might mean: an involvement with television. A close-knit family. A desire to make life better for the autistic kids in their lives…

  “Sometimes,” he said, “my sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”

  Bianca wasn’t sure how to react…until he reached out and gave her shoulder a playful shove. She laughed. And when he joined in, she laughed harder still.

  “Goodness! I could hear you from the backyard!” Maddy said.

  Instantly, the laughter stopped. Logan caught Bianca’s startled gaze and took a step left, effectively putting his back to her mom. “Sorry,” he said under his breath, “didn’t see her come in.”

  “I guess you two finished setting up, and that’s why you have time to laugh and joke.” She slid an arm around Bianca’s waist. “But really, what does it matter? It’s just so good to hear you enjoying life for a change!” She looked at Logan. “I have you to thank for that.”

  It seemed he didn’t know how to respond, and that surprised Bianca. The man who’d looked so comfortable shepherding Emmy and Oscar winners down the red carpet, at a loss for words?

  She returned her mother’s sideways hug. “My hands are all grimy, so I wonder if you’d mind getting Logan a bottle of water.”

  “Mind? It’s my pleasure!” As she walked toward the kitchen, Maddy winked at Logan. “Small price to pay for this happy mood my girl is in.”

  The minute Maddy was out of earshot, Logan shook his head and leaned close to Bianca. “That mother of yours,” he said, smiling, “is a piece of work.”

  “She takes after me, not her father,” Maddy called.

  Logan and Bianca exchanged another surprised glance.

  She delivered the water and, giggling, said, “So aren’t you the lucky duck.”

  Bianca waited until the screen door slid shut behind her mom to say, “It’s like she has no censorship filters. If it’s in her head, it’s out her mouth.”

  Logan chuckled. “Reminds me of Deidre.”

  They spent a few minutes sharing some of the inappropriate comments their elderly friend had made.

  He started bagging the Styrofoam while she broke down the boxes.

  “So what’s that?” he asked, pointing.

  Bianca glanced at the easel that she had covered with a sheet and the table beside it that held her palette, which stood in the opposite corner of the family room.

  “I’m painting something for Drew.”

  He walked toward it. “Do you mind?”

  “No, but keep in mind it isn’t finished,” she said as he tugged at a corner of the sheet.

  Logan looked from the painting to the picture of Jason on the mantel and back again.

  “Man,” he said, bending for an even closer look. “You sure this isn’t a photograph?”

  She showed him her acrylic-stained fingernails. “Absolutely positive.”

  “Well, wow. It’s fantastic.” He replaced the cover. “You’re really talented.”

  Bianca shrugged and went back to folding the boxes into stackable squares. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d painted love into Jason’s eyes. It wouldn’t be easy because with every brush stroke, she was reminded of the man she’d thought he was, before their wedding, before Drew’s diagnosis….

  “So have you heard from your sister?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Talked to her last evening. Mom broke down when they hung up. Said she’s glad Sandra’s having a good time and admitted that after a year without a day off, she’d earned the break.” A half-hearted smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Guess having me in charge makes it easy to see what good care Sandra took of her.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing fine. It can’t be easy, running the whole house, taking care of the kids, all while making sure your mom gets her medicine, and meals, and…”

  “…and baths? Don’t tell anyone, but I hired a home nurse to come in once a day to give her a sponge bath, make sure I didn’t screw anything up.”

  “If I was a betting woman, I’d wager she hasn’t found a thing.”

  “Yet.”

  “You’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only another couple of days.”

  He nodded. “Had a chance to call any of the companion-dog people yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. But it’s high on my To Do list.”

  “I had a notion to bring Poe over here,” he said. “See how Drew behaves around dogs.”

  “Poe?” The name sounded familiar.

  “She’s my dog. The one in the commercial.” He smiled. “One of my closest friends, too. She belonged to friends whose child was on the spectrum.”

  So the dog in the commercial really was his? But, wait… Had he said his friend’s child was on the spectrum?

  “They moved in with me when their house went into foreclosure. Took a year, trying to find a place that allowed dogs like the one you’re thinking of getting for Drew. About the time they found one, Holly was diagnosed with bacterial meningitis.” He stared at the floor. Examined his hands. Heaved a huge, sad sigh. “She was one great kid.”

  Now Bianca understood: they hadn’t found a solution for her autistic traits…. Holly had died.

  “The dog reminded her folks too much of their loss. They were going to send Poe back to her trainers, but because she was used to me—and I missed having her around—I adopted her.”

  “How old was Holly?”

  “Six. Barely.”

  “Did she… Did it happen recently?”

  “Three years ago, come August.”

  So. Just about the time she’d lost Jason. Bianca searched for words of comfort, but all that came to mind were the strange, insensitive things peopl
e had said when Jason died: “How lucky he is not to be suffering anymore” and “Now that he’s in a better place, you can get on with your life.” They’d meant well, and even at the time she’d realized their discomfort with her loss was what prompted the inappropriate comments. But what was wrong with simply saying, “I’m sorry?”

  It’s what she said to Logan.

  “Thanks. You know, it’s weird, but I haven’t heard from them since I picked up Poe.” He pressed the pads of his fingers together, pushed them together and apart, together and apart, like a spider doing pushups on a mirror. “Guess I’m a reminder of their loss, too.”

  “Losing Jason was tough,” Bianca admitted, “but to lose a child?” She glanced at the photos of her husband and son, side by side on the mantel. Meeting Logan’s eyes, she said, “They’ll come around in time.”

  “It’s been three years. But a guy can hope.”

  Maddy walked into the room, grabbed a book from one of the shelves that flanked the fireplace and said, “Yes. I’m available to babysit if you guys want to grab a bite to eat later.”

  When she was gone, Logan took a gulp from the water bottle and, while replacing the cap, said, “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Put up with…” He pointed in the direction Maddy had gone. “If I’m over the line here, say the word. It’s just, well, she’s pretty outspoken, y’know?”

  She couldn’t very well accuse him of overstepping his bounds when Maddy had interrupted every time he’d visited. Well, except for the one she’d jokingly dubbed “Mission: Lamb pj’s.”

  “She is what she is,” Bianca admitted. “Lucky for me, the good far outweighs the bad. And to be fair, I’m even weirder than Mom.”

  He returned her smile. “I haven’t seen one example of your weirdness. But seriously. What’s your secret, you know, for keeping a respectful tongue in your head?”

  “When she says something inappropriate or intrusive, I just tell myself she means well, that she’s trying to help and everything she does comes from a place of love and affection.”

  Smirking, he said, “So you lie to yourself.”